Crossroads
by gingercake
Summary: 'Everywhere I looked, Finn's face appeared; a portrait of betrayal.' There comes a point where everyone snaps, regardless, and Clarke is sick of keeping a lid on her emotions. What with her people still captured, Finn's lingering memory and her growing feelings for Bellamy, it looks like the point of no return for Clarke's sanity is fast approaching. First person, AU after 2x10.
1. Chapter One

**Crossroads**

**Chapter one**

I heard him before I saw him.

"Octavia," his deep, gravelly voice was saying, the same voice I'd heard over the radio, and deep down, thought I'd never hear in reality again. I turned quickly, but then stopped when I saw his face. Hidden behind a curtain in the medic room, he couldn't see me.

It was a good thing too.

Half of his face was obscured under the thick beige cap he wore, but the other, visible half, was covered by a black-and-blue bruise which bloomed over the bridge of his nose and down to his bloody and twisted mouth.

I felt my own hand touch my hand and trace what I was seeing. Whatever it was that I was feeling, looking at Bellamy's battered face, wondering how close it'd been that he had come to dying in that mountain, did not feel good. It felt like an overpowering of anger, of relief... of guilt.

I had felt too much guilt these past few days. I pushed it down, along with whatever emotions Bellamy was stirring in my chest. No time.

"Clarke!"

Any further internal monologues were brought to an abrupt end when a figure called my name and hurtled into me, bringing us both off kilter. I staggered, and then found myself looking into a pair of very dark eyes - Jasper's. His grin was so wide it cut his whole face in half, and he looked years younger with his hair grown out and his clean shirt.

"We thought, I thought-" he mumbled, burying his head in my shoulder. I squeezed my friend back with every ounce of strength I'd saved. We probably would have stayed like that for a very long time if Octavia hadn't caught me roughly by the shoulder and shook us apart.

"Hey!" I said, but there was panic in her eyes.

"It's Bellamy, he's collapsed and there's a huge gash, your mother's busy and-"

She didn't need to say another word. I put an arm on Jasper's shoulder, and told him I'd talk to him later, when we could all be together. His eyes darkened on the words 'all together' but I didn't think much of it. He ducked his head and then leapt at poor Octavia.

I rushed into the clearing, my kit in hand. In a crowd of people in the centre, Bellamy was lying on the ground, his head supported by Wick, the engineer. I steeled myself and swiftly knelt down beside Wick, putting my ear to Bellamy's mouth. His breathing was laboured.

"Let's get him inside," I ordered and shouldered my way through the crowd, Wick and another man carrying Bellamy behind me.

They lay him down on a bed in the medic room, and immediately I was by his side.

I took his cap off, but instead of the thick, curly hair that I expected to see come bouncing back, it was all slicked to his forehead with blood, with more under and around his nose. I shone a torch on his pupils, and let out a sigh of relief when they dilated, though he still wasn't conscious.

There was no shame in me when I tore open his protective vest and then shirt, to reveal a scarlet slit that extended across his abdomen. With dark humour, I told myself how disappointing it was that I had no time to admire his toned chest. One thing at a time, Clarke. I had to act fast, otherwise there was a real danger the wound could become infected, and that would lead to a whole new treasure chest of problems.

I grabbed a cloth and wet it before cleaning away the blood from around the wound. As soon as I cleared away the encrusted mess and exposed the pink, tender skin stretching away from it, more blood pooled out of the gash. I couldn't staunch the bleeding then, no matter how hard I pressed down with the cloth. Bellamy's blood soaked through and began to stain my hands, as quickly as his skin took on a deathly pallor and the veins became visible on his neck.

I felt sick. My hands were stained with the blood of one of my closest friends, one I depended upon more than I could ever express. It wasn't the first time either. As I looked down at them, I saw Finn's blood. His lolling head. The look of satisfaction in Lexa's eyes and then Raven's piercing scream.

Murderer.

"No, no, no," I muttered desperately, shaking them. Bellamy began to convulse on the table and the continuous stream of blood wouldn't stop, but I kept on pressing, even when Bellamy whimpered uncharacteristically and I knew it was hurting him. I couldn't help it; I didn't want him to die. But he would, he would, he would-

"He's lost a lot of blood - we need two pints of it, now."

Never in my life had I been so glad to hear my mother's cool, collected voice. She brought in two nurses, and told one to staunch the blood with a wrap and the other to collect the blood.

I was still shaking and pressing down on Bellamy's abdomen with the drenched cloth. My mother came over and gently but firmly gripped my arm.

"Clarke, honey, you're hurting him. Let go, wash your hands and let me take care of Bellamy. I'm not letting anyone else in to see him."

I nodded listlessly and allowed myself to be taken away to the makeshift sink by my mother. The water ran red and my hands were soon clean, but I couldn't banish the image in my mind, that they would always be dripping with someone's blood. Be it Finn or Bellamy's.

Bellamy. I cleared my mind and turned towards my main source of attention, berating myself for forgetting his condition. The nurses and my mother had admittedly done a much better job than I, as Bellamy's shirt was now completely removed and a long, winding bandage covered the gash, though the blood was still seeping through.

The younger nurse noticed my frown.

"That'll need changing quite regularly," she affirmed, "But I've given him some Tranexamic acid to speed up the clotting." I nodded in reply. She didn't look very old, but she seemed to know what she was doing. My mother had hooked Bellamy up to the blood transfuse machine, and I watched the creaky old thing as it administered fresh blood into a pipe extending into his neck.

I saw my mother approach me a little concernedly, as though she thought I would start tearing out my hair in wild chunks or something. I gave a fleeting smile instead.

"I know how important he is to you," she smiled, looking back at the boy, whose colour had started to improve already, and who was no longer having terrifying convulsions.

I was unwilling to delve any further than this, and I was quite surprised by my mother's cloying tone, as she'd never really taken to Bellamy at all before. Then the look in her eyes became apparent. It was the same look she used to have when she stared at my father.

Oh no no no.

I parted my lips and shook my head minutely at her. _Did you not see what happened with Finn? _my head screamed, but in reply I merely hardened my gaze and brushed past her. A sigh followed my departure but I ignored it.

Bellamy's face was still a canvas of red, blue and black, but at least his breathing had stabilised and I could see his eyes fluttering under the lids.

The younger nurse handed me a bowl of steaming water and a fresh cloth, and I smiled gratefully. My mother stood off to the side, making me wish she wouldn't watch me so intently.

Lightly now, I squeezed out the damp cloth and began to wipe Bellamy's face. There was something soothing in the motion of clearing away the blood and grime, and mechanically rinsing out the cloth. It was something I had really become quite accustomed to in the last few months.

The water needed changing several times, but at last his nose and forehead were clear, only leaving the bruise and its snaking tendrils of blue. Even with that he looked as attractive as usual, something which I had to mentally shake myself for noticing.

My favourite part was now to wash his hair, even if I was unwilling to admit it.

I took a towel, some water and a little soap and set to work. The dark curls shone coppery in the overhead light, and when I'd finished rinsing, and dried them gently with a towel, they fluffed up. I let out a little laugh, imaging Bellamy's indignation and outrage if he were to see how cloud-like his hair was now.

"Having fun at my expense, Princess?" was exactly what I'd been waiting to hear, followed by a deep, shuddering groan, which wasn't. Bellamy's voice was rough and broken, but the familiar humour was there.

I stood over him, trying my best to look intimidating.

"Did I not say not to get yourself killed?" I demanded, a little more high-pitched than I'd anticipated. Bellamy too, as he winced.

"That's a double negative, Princess, I'm way too tired to understand that," he teased, but then looked serious, keeping his arms flat by his sides while the nurses bustled about, changing the bandage and checking the transfusion.

"_You _were the one who sent me in there," he reminded, but then stopped when he saw the visible look of pain flash across my face,

"Not that it wasn't necessary, but there was a risk."

The way he said it so matter-of-fact made me hurt even more. I bit my lip and put my hand on his forehead; I hadn't done anything so bold since our hug.

His warm eyes regarded me with a strange flicker of emotion that was impossible to identify, especially since it disappeared in an instant and was replaced with by the usual blankness.

"Been checking me out, have we?" He motioned an arm down the length of his exposed body, right to his trousers, which of course, I'd left on.

"Didn't get time to finish?" he continued, but stopped when I groaned and flicked his forehead with my free hand.

"Stop with the rhetorical questions, Bell," I pleaded, and the older nurse frowned at me when Bellamy laughed in response. Then he paused, mid-laugh.

"What did you call me?"

"Uh... Bell?" I repeated unsurely. His mouth twisted slightly. There was some palpable tension and then an awkward silence. The older nurse took her chance.

"This young man needs plenty of rest and no distractions," she said, looking directly at me. I stared her down defiantly. My mother finally spoke up, coming over from the corner.

"Clarke, he's your patient; your responsibility." I frowned at her forwardness

"Why...?" I began, but she interrupted,

"You need to focus your mind on one thing at a time."

I dipped my head in agreement; she was right, after all.

The nurses instructed Bellamy to sleep, and so did my mother. He rolled his eyes at their departing backs. I didn't want to proposition him, but there was an issue I'd pushed to the back of my mind as soon as he'd collapsed. I brought it up now.

"Bellamy, I saw Jasper and Monty, and Harper, and some others of our people. Where are the rest of the forty-seven?"

His jaw tightened, and the strain around his eyes put years on him.

"Clarke, they're still there," he said harshly, "...In the mountain."

* * *

**I hope you guys like my first attempt at a _The 100 _fic, and that the characters aren't OOC. Please review so that I know you guys want me to continue this or not :)**


	2. Chapter Two

**Crossroads**

**Chapter two**

I took a step back at his words; it was impossible. Not after all the effort our people - the Grounders too, had gone through to get them back. It had seemed like the perfect plan, so how had it gone wrong?

"Lincoln got me in, as far as underneath as we could go without the Reapers leaping out," Bellamy explained, clenching and unclenching his fists as the blood continued to pump into his neck from the transfuse machine. I needed to unhook it soon, and get him to sleep, but I wanted to hear more.

"Then..." he took a deep breath, "When we were being inspected by the Mountain Men for some crazy harvesting crap, he took the injection."

Bellamy's face tightened in disbelief and his eyes flashed.

"What injection?" I probed, not wanting to sound like an idiot but probably failing. Then it hit me.

"No..." I whispered, "Is he?"

"I don't know," Bellamy replied quickly, and turned away, "Maybe. I don't know what I'm gonna tell O; that her boyfriend's gone and turned himself back into a Reaper, and I couldn't even stop him." Then he looked back at me, like he was surprised I was still listening, and even more surprised when I nodded my head in sympathy.

"Anyway, after that, I was captured. They did things." He didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask him to. There would be a time when I would wheedle it out of him, but not now, when my chest was on fire and I just wanted to curse myself for ever letting him go there, alone.  
"That girl, Maya, she helped me, and we found Jasper, Monty, Harper and some others in the dormitory."

His words were quick-fire, unlike usual, when he'd carefully select his words, or at least put a little emotion into them.

Looking down, I saw that his expression was blanketed by pain and regret, and that his breathing had become wheezy.

"Right," I said as chipper as I could manage, "We'll talk later. Gods know you need rest." I gently unhooked the transfuse machine and pressed a cloth to the small incision in his neck. It wasn't the only one. There were several darker marks, dotted the length of his neck and collarbone; incisions.

He noticed my tiny gasp of horror and quickly turned his head away so that his curly hair obscured them.

"I told you they did things," he said gruffly, and I turned away so I could swallow my emotions alone.

Changing the bandage seemed to take eons. Bellamy's eyes bore into my back as I moved to and fro from the bed, and once, when I was carefully securing the tapering end of the bandage, he hissed in pain and I automatically looked at him. Our eyes locked and a curious look passed between us that I wasn't even conscious that I was making.

"Uh, you need to sleep now. I'll come and check on you later," I swallowed uneasily and walked towards the door.

"Thanks," Bellamy added as I reached it, and I gave him one of the first genuine smiles I'd had in the last month.

* * *

Two hours later, I was sitting in my room, eating a bowl of tomato soup that my mother had thrust upon me in the insistence that if I didn't eat, I would remain skin and bones. I neglected to tell her that I was at least a little more muscular then skin and bones, as she'd just give me the: _And who exactly is in charge here? _look.

The shock of my door being thrown open nearly knocked the bowl of soup out of my hands, culminating with a jarring crash against the wall and a very pissed off looking Octavia stalking into the room. Her eyes were heavily lidded with charcoal, giving her the appearance of a predatory panther, and her heavy braids swung like a pendulum as she began to advance towards me.

"Your grounder look is really complete," I offered lightly, hoping to diffuse the situation. She ignored me completely.

"Why is your mother not letting me see my own brother?" she demanded, and I groaned, not having taken it to heart that my mother would literally exclude anyone from seeing Bellamy. It wasn't even like he was at death's door or anything, and he deserved to spend time with his only blood relative.

"Sorry," I began, "She said only I could treat him at the moment..." I trailed off at her sudden transition to a sadder, more wistful Octavia. I wondered what had deflated her.

"That's not gonna help him, you know," she said, "You being around him the whole time."

I shrugged, not meeting her gaze, "Who asked you?" I said snarkily, not appreciating what she was implying.

"You're making it harder for him!" she said, "Clarke, he _cares _about you." I knew this was hard for her to say, since she was used to her brother being solely hers, since he didn't really seem to care about the girls he'd been with. But she was obviously wrong. Of course Bellamy cared about me, and me about him; we were co-leaders. I told her this.

She shook her head,

"I don't know what you're telling yourself, but I've seen the way Bellamy is, and he's beginning to act like... Like there's something there," she shrugged, "Don't lead him on."

I bristled. Surely it'd be the opposite at any rate?

"Oh yeah," I bit back, "Because it's not like Bellamy's _ever _lead anyone on in his life, is it?"

To my surprise, Octavia didn't immediately jump down my throat as she would have done a few months ago. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned casually on my bedpost. The grounder training she was undergoing seemed to have given her a measure on her retorts.

"I'm not going to excuse Bell for how he used to act," she agreed reluctantly, "But this is different. He hasn't had a girl in his tent since just before the grounders declared war on us!"

This surprised me, although to be honest, I hadn't really noticed. All I knew is that Bellamy's character had changed, and he was no longer the same, self-absorbed egotistical prick I had initially made him out to be.

Still. I didn't want to think about things like that. As Lexa said, love was weakness, and I wasn't weak.

"To be honest," Octavia was saying, "You don't have a great track record with lovers." Ouch.

"Was that too blunt?" she added hurriedly, a little crease between her eyes. "What I meant was, don't hurt Bellamy, even if you don't mean to."

She touched my shoulder lightly before disappearing from the room, leaving a scent of wood smoke behind.

Hurt him? I thought, I was hoping that he wouldn't hurt me, by having unnecessary feelings that would complicate our relationship further. I couldn't handle it anymore, not after Finn.

* * *

All taking and no action had been my life these last couple of days. I resolved to challenge my mother and Kane on what we were going to do to retrieve our people who were still stuck in the mountain.

My mother was unwilling to engage in conversation with me.

"Our best chance now is to wait out a couple of days until we hold another meeting with the grounders and then decide the next plan of attack."

"But I'm sick of waiting," I nearly cried, "And so is nearly everyone in this camp. I want my people to be free now. How many of them have to be tortured and killed and experimented on before you understand that?"

"Clarke," my mother said tiredly, "They're my people too, but as Chancellor-"

I could feel the rage building up now. _I _had been in charge after they'd sent us down to die here. _I_'d been the one to negotiate a treaty with the Grounders.

"They stopped being your people when you decided to send them down here," I said bitterly and turned on my heel. Before I could leave in a storm of fury, Raven came skidding down the corridor, her brown eyes gleaming like nothing I'd ever seen.

"He did it," she said breathlessly, "Bellamy actually did it."

"What?"

"He switched off the acid fog, before they escaped. I checked; the signal's broken. We're set!"

Her excitement was infectious, but I couldn't let myself smile yet. Why hadn't Bellamy told me this himself?

I made my excuses and left Raven to talk to my mother about what this actually meant in terms of executing the plan.

* * *

"Bellamy," I whispered, "Bellamy, are you awake?"

The figure on the bed groaned and mumbled something in a very deep, sleep-thick voice which I was careful not to let too big of a thrill go down my spine at. It didn't sound like he was fully awake yet.

I crossed to his bed, which mustn't have been very comfortable seeing as Bellamy was a tall guy and his bed not a long one. His legs were bunched up under the thin cover someone had provided him with. A curly head poked out from the top, giving him the appearance of a young boy.

The medical room was so quiet, and I wondered where the few of our people that had managed to escape were. Surely Kane hadn't already recruited them to join the fight, only a short while after their release? I sighed through pursed lips and resolved to coax them into resting at least a little, though from the look on Jasper's face in the brief time I had spoken to him showed me that he at least wasn't ready to back down just yet.

I leant over Bellamy's face, my hair tickling the edge of his collarbone and my breath probably fanning all over his face, though he didn't move. He was oddly still.

"Bellamy?" I tried. Nothing. I touched my finger to his shoulder and applied light pressure. Big mistake.

Immediately, his face contorted and his teeth were in a grimace. He grabbed my arm with one swift movement, though his eyes were still shut.

"No," he choked out, "Not again." His voice rose. "I can't... _Stop._ _Stop_."

He sounded like a tormented child, so unlike the grown Bellamy I was used to. His voice was strangled and although low, the pain unbearable to hear.

"Bellamy!" I shook his shoulder fiercely, "Bellamy wake up!"

His eyes flew open and took in the blue, calmed gaze that I gave, although inside I was shaking like an earthquake had just passed between us. We stayed like that for several seconds, him just taking deep breaths and gripping onto my arm. I hooked the other one over him in a gesture of understanding. He took it too far, sitting bolt upright and hoisting me up onto the bed so that I was cradled in his arms and his head was buried in my collarbone.

He breathed in heavily.

"If you tell anyone, especially Octavia..." he murmured, "I _will _kill you, Princess."

I didn't know if he was talking about the nightmare or the incredibly intense positon we were currently in. But I let him continue to keep his head ducked to my chest, even though Octavia's warning about not leading him echoed in my head, and I knew I could be sending the wrong signals.

But he needed this... _I _needed this.

* * *

We were broken apart five minutes later by Raven.

"Lexa wants to call a meeting," she said curiously and offhandedly, studying us with her broad, all-encompassing gaze. I turned away sheepishly.

Bellamy pushed me off so I stumbled onto the ground.

"She was checking my temperature," he said nonchalantly, but there was a suggestive undertone there. Raven smirked. I huffed.

* * *

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	3. Chapter Three

**Crossroads**

**Chapter three**

Navigating myself down the darkened corridor was harder than I thought. The imprint of Bellamy's hand grazing my collarbone and the flush that had spread up from my chest weren't fading. I cursed his boldness. I cursed Raven's interruption. Then I cursed myself for cursing Raven's interruption; it was a cyclic nightmare.

I stumbled out into the sunlight to find myself face to face with Lexa's right-hand man, Gustus. He took an intimidating stance, helped by the fact he towered over me. I stared up stonily, until he let me pass. Keeping my face impassive, I approached Lexa, who stood in a semi-circle with her senior Grounder warriors.

"How is Bellamy?" was her first, albeit surprising, question. I had never thought that she had cared about him.

I cleared my throat, and averted my gaze, "He's, um, doing OK."

She inclined her head slightly, but her face remained impassive. Then she leaned her face close to my ear.

"You remember what I said?" she murmured, her breath tickling my chin, "That weakness is not accountable in a great leader?"

"Something like that," I replied slowly. She nodded, clearly pleased. Then she said something sharp to her indomitable Grounder gang, which clearly was along the lines of 'Go away' as they all filed off in one silent line, including - thankfully - Gustus.

"I have a plan," she said, "You may not like it, but it will make the deaths of many of your people avoidable."

Immediately I felt a sense of relief and overwhelming gratefulness to Lexa for bouncing back so soon after the news that all our people were not yet free. It was commendable of her to have thought up a contingency plan.

"When Bellamy, and the few others escaped the Mountain, only he was seen by one of their guards; Carl Emerson. That is how he was wounded. "

I blinked, not being familiar with this information. Bellamy hadn't told me he had narrowly escaped from a Mt. Weather guard; imagine how close he had come to...

"Where did you get this information?" I demanded.

"From Taita. She was watching the back of the Mountain, from the top of a ravine, when she saw this."

I bit my lip.

"It is barbaric," she announced suddenly but quietly, "The Mountain man was able to follow Bellamy outside the mountain, for a little while, as to inflict his blow. I have never..."

Her dark eyes clouded and narrowed.

"It is because of the Sky people that they are beginning to have this ability," she continued, but there was no malice in her tone, "We need to draw this guard out, as he has the key to the main vault. Jasper has told us that the vault, on floor 3, has the key to the main door. It has not been used since the time of the building of that fortress, but we need it." She paused, and I tried to get used to the fact that that was the most I'd ever heard her say in one go.

"So?" I offered very eloquently.

"To lure the guard out of the mountain, he will need to recognise a Sky person, to make him want to finish the kill. This is a common practice amongst our clans, and is called _segonzo, _or baiting."

I stopped listening at that point. I wasn't stupid, and now I felt sickened. She wanted _Bellamy _to be bait? For some sick Mountain man to try and kill?

"You're the one who's barbaric," I spat, sounding very angry, though I was more so horrified.

Lexa blinked, not understanding.

"Sacrifices are necessary for the good of us all," she affirmed. It took me back to that moment, a few weeks ago, when I had said that it would be a good idea for Bellamy to go undercover into Mt. Weather. I couldn't forget the look on his face when I'd said _'It's worth the risk_'; the hurt masked by resigned acceptance. I hadn't thought of what it'd meant then, but I'd be damned if Bellamy was going to be used at my expense again.

"Leave him out of this," I said, "He's in no state to walk, let alone be a target for some bloodthirsty mountain man."

Lexa inclined her head.

"There were wounded at Ton DC," she stated simply, "...When the missile hit. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

I flinched at her words. Didn't she understand how much I had had to detach myself from the Clarke that abandoned her friends to die, the Clarke that left children and mothers in the path of destruction. It was a version of myself that I hadn't recognised and would never be able to face - but I _had_ done it, and as Bellamy had said, who we were and who we had to be to survive were very different; not even on the same spectrum.

_The greater good. _What a shallow-sounding grab at redemption for that horrible day. Lexa surely couldn't console herself with that, I thought.

"It's different now," I conceded, "Love isn't a weakness. I won't be that sort of leader any more, Lexa. That's your job." It was harsh but true.

Lexa's eyes clouded over, and I wondered if I'd said too much. But then,

"You care about him," she said coyly; it was a statement, not an inquiry. I frowned; of course. I trusted Bellamy with my life.

"Yes?"

"More so than the rest. It would kill you to see him come to any harm." She was starting to sound accusatory now, and her tone was not at all pleasant. I had no idea why she was scrabbling after some apparently implicit undertone to the simple fact that I cared about Bellamy Blake. I wasn't inhuman.

She wouldn't say anything more about it, and we were left staring stubbornly at each other for a full two minutes.

I swore I heard her say, "Interesting..." as she finally sashayed past me without another word. I was left frustratingly out in the dark, as commonplace with the Grounder commander.

* * *

I was going to finally have a wash. It didn't sound like much, but when you'd be stuck on the Ground with Mr. Attend-To-My-Every-Need-And-Sending-Strange-Messages and a pack of surly Grounders you did feel the need to refresh yourself.

I'd left Octavia in charge of Bellamy while he slept, to change his bandages now every two hours instead of one. He was slowly improving.

It was early evening as I let myself out of Camp Jaha, skirting round the fence and slipping into the mass of trees behind. I was immediately plunged into semi-dark then, as the only light came from the branches splaying dappled patterns of sunshine in and around my feet. I took a deep breath of pleasure at the serenity, not having to hear shouting, or screaming, or _conflict _for once. Then I felt guilty, as my friends were still in the mountain and here I was, apparently not caring. But would good would it do them if I couldn't function properly enough to help get them out?

There was a small pool about twenty minutes north of the pool, that Bellamy and I found a couple of months ago on a patrol. It was hidden in a thicket of bushes and hardly anyone came that way, so I felt fairly confident of not being peeped on.

There was nothing in the world compared to lying in cold, refreshing water, watching the water reach and recede from the banks of the pool. For a moment, it was pure bliss.

Until I saw someone watching me. I ducked down and hid myself in the reeds by the edge of the pool. The eyes I could make out from a bush a little while away hadn't noticed that _I'd _noticed.

_Bellamy_? I thought wildly, knowing he was the only one apart from me who knew this place existed. If it was him, I'd kill him for two reasons.

For daring to spy on me (Was he a five year old?)

For exerting himself when he was still recovering from an injury.

The eyes now locked onto mine. They were pale blue, a washed out colour. It definitely wasn't;t Bellamy then, and I felt a sense of relief.

"Stop hiding," I called out, making myself sound stern. I grabbed the stained old towel I'd salvaged from a storage room in camp and wrapped it round myself, although my feet and legs were still submerged in the water at the bank's incline.

To my surprise, the person was not all hesitant about stumbling into the open. It was a girl who had been watching me, strangely enough. She had cropped, brown hair, tanned skin and those washed-out blue eyes. She looked like a frightened deer, not much older than fourteen, but she reminded me strongly of someone.

"Hey," I said gently, "Are you OK?"

"I-I'm looking for the camp from the Ark," she said slowly, "I was from one of the other stations. They, they... I'm the only one left."

I felt my face twist in pain at the look of disbelief on this young girl's face. At least she had survived, I told myself. At least.

"I'll get you to camp," I reassured her, "What's your name?"

"Marie," she replied.

"Clarke."

She smiled a little, and I told her I'd be a little while so that I could hurriedly slip into my clothes. She nodded and disappeared back into the thicket. I couldn't shake the strong sense of having known her before, as her face look so familiar. Weird.

"OW!" I yelped suddenly, twisting to my side. A dark mass darted away in the cloudy water, now carrying a red tinge. There was now a slit on my ankle, oozing blood. I cursed under my breath.

I didn't exactly have time to attend to a silly little cut, so I just stemmed the bleeding with some seaweed, and then wrapped a handkerchief that my mother had given me around the cut. It would do while I got Marie back to camp.

* * *

She did not say one word the whole journey back. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though, I just got the sense that she'd rather stay quiet. I hoped she was relieved at having made it out alive, and wasn't feeling guilty. That emotion could break your spirit.

As we were let into the camp entrance by some annoyed-looking guards, my mother came walking up.

"Clarke!" she sighed with exasperation, "Why are you never doing what I tell you?"

I rolled my eyes. "This is Marie," I said, gesturing to the small girl at my side, "She's the only survivor from another station."

Then I remembered I'd never asked her _which _station. Or how old she was. And now my tone sounded harsh and uncaring. I flinched.

My mother seemed to understand. She was good with people.

"Marie, is it? We'll get you sorted out." She was about to lead her away when Marie broke from her hand with a wild cry of delight. She took off in one direction, and I followed her path to see her crash headfirst into Raven.

"Raven!" I could hear her exclamation, and it sent a warmth down into my heart to know she still had someone. I wondered if she was a relation that Raven had never mentioned.

I walked over to Raven, who had both arms wrapped around Marie. When she saw me, her smile died.

"Clarke!" Marie said, her face lighting up, "You know Raven?"

She clung to Raven's arm. Raven's face was not an inviting picture.

"Is Raven your relation?" I asked hopefully, but the hope drained when Marie shook her head.

"No, but her boyfriend is."

My hand flew to my mouth. Raven's eyes widened in horror.

"_Finn?_" I whispered almost imperceptibly. But Marie heard.

"Yeah," she said happily, "He's my -"

I blacked out on what she said then. I couldn't breathe.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay in uploading; I hope you enjoy this chapter and that no one's OOC.**


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